


Secret Melodies

by BooksAndDragons



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, akira can sing okay, drag musical-loving akira from my cold dead hands, goro isnt okay, singing is wholesome see i can do wholesome, this was supposed to be some good content of goro being gay but guess i cant refrain from angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksAndDragons/pseuds/BooksAndDragons
Summary: Discovering Akira's talent for singing had never been an intention of Akechi's, but there was something to value in how it was now a secret only they shared. Privy to nobody else.Who knew it would also be a huge source of comfort to Akechi, in his darkest nights.





	Secret Melodies

**Author's Note:**

> i promise i intended on this just consisting of wholesome singing-related gay awakenings for goro, but instead we got some angsties
> 
> i wish i was sorry, really
> 
> (also, thanks to ghoul, who's ask inspired me to do this fic!! <33)

Yongen-Jaya was pleasantly quiet in the late hours of the evening. No obnoxiously bright lights burning down on you, no lingering blares of car horns and late-night traffic. The streets were all but abandoned, occasional street lamps providing a dim glow to the small town, shadows took shape on all corners, side streets, and back alleys. It was quaint.

Cafe Leblanc stood hidden between an old restaurant and the backside of a tobacco store, the warm glow shone through the windows onto the dark pavement- a beacon. A small smile worked its way onto Goro Akechi’s face as he reached for the handle, opening the door, he felt a certain weight lift from his shoulders with the accompanying chime, as the smell of coffee and curry hit him.

Leblanc was a haven, quiet and unknown by many. Once or twice he had concerned for the owner, wondered how the business sustained itself on so few customers, but the Boss seemed to do well enough anyway (Akechi always made sure to leave a good tip nevertheless).

The first sign something was amiss was the empty cafe. Akechi frowned as he let his gaze sweep the room. Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for Boss to slip out and make a purchase or two, but he never left the cafe empty and unlocked, and even if he did there was always- 

A voice broke through his thoughts. Singing.

Soft and melodic, with deeper tones that hinted the voice was male, it seeped through the cracks in the ceiling, down the staircase hidden in the back of the cafe. Akechi could vaguely recognise the song, an old ballad from some classic musical. 

As if on instinct, he began to walk towards the stairs, his footfalls light and precise. Perhaps he should have locked Leblanc’s door behind him, or at the very least switched the sign to ‘Closed’, but right now that was the last thing on his mind.

One gloved hand curled around the bannister as he slowly began to ascend the staircase. The wood underfoot was old and worn, small creaks cried and risked exposing Akechi before he was prepared. Carefully, he aimed for the more sturdy, less-worn areas of woodwork. With every step, he felt his heart begin to beat that bit faster, more noticable.

Akechi had visited Leblanc more times than he was able to count, but he’d never been upstairs- never been to where he knew Kurusu Akira was currently residing. There was something private about that, intimate even. Over their months of time hanging out, Akechi had always hoped Akira considered him a close friend- but the lack of an invite upstairs did often leave him with the occasional doubt, plaguing his thoughts.

When Akechi reached the top of the stairs, he began to understand why Akira may have been so reluctant to invite him up, but he didn’t let himself become fixated on the state of Akira’s given room, instead drawn to the figure sat by an old workbench.

He was hunched over the desk, slender fingers toying with some pieces of metal and tools, so focused on the task at hand he hadn’t even stopped to notice Akechi’s presence. But even as he retained his focus, the soothing tune slipping past his lips didn’t waver. There was a small smile on Akira’s face, gentle, at ease. 

For a moment Akechi hesitated, happy to just watch, admire- but he knew that if Akira noticed him, he’d less than appreciate the intense gaze currently fixated on him.

Slowly, Akechi put his case down, a small thunk hardly noticeable to the other occupant of the room, as he slowly crept towards his target. For a Phantom Thief, Akira was rather unaware of his surroundings at that current moment. It was almost amusing, if flashes of worse situations hadn’t played before Akechi’s mind, if it hadn’t been he who noticed Leblanc was open, and without it’s Boss.

He paused for a moment, revelling in the soft voice, the soothing melody for just a second more, before hesitantly clearing his throat.

As expected, Akira reacted instantly.

The tools he had been toying with clattered to the desk, the loud chimings filling the air that Akira’s soothing voice had just occupied. Wide, grey eyes stared up at him.

“A-Akechi!” The way he hastily pushed himself to his feet, tripping over his own feet just to block Akechi’s view of the workdesk, left the detective attempting to suppress the twitching at the corners of his lips. He already had a sneaking suspicion what tools Akira was crafting.  _ Lockpicks _ . “I um- I didn’t notice….sorry. Did you happen to-”

“Overhear your singing?” Akechi said it innocently enough, but the embarrassed flush on Akira’s face was certainly a change from his usual, cool demeanor.

“Yeah…. _ that… _ .look, uh, how’d you even get in here? The cafe’s closed.” A single lock of hair was twisted between his fingers as he spoke, a nervous tic- Akechi had come to learn.

He smiled slightly, shaking his head, “The cafe’s open, perhaps you forgot to close it?”

Akira stopped messing with his hair, staring at Akechi with a dawning horror, “I did?! Sojiro’s going to  _ kill  _ me….You don’t mind if I go downstairs and change it, right? I mean, you must’ve come for coffee anyway, I may as well make you some.”

Akechi perked up, despite himself. Akira didn’t often make his coffee, considering he was out half the time Akechi would arrive, arriving after he’d been served- but it was always a nice change. Sakura’s coffee was always perfectly executed, but there was a more homely feeling whenever Akira served him.

“Oh, well, if you insist? I’m already aware it’s rather late, considering the cafe should be closed….” Akira shot him a warm smile, shaking his head.

“I don’t mind, you came all this way afterall. Besides, it’s not the first time you’ve stayed past closing.”

Akira walked around him, grabbing the silver case on his way, before heading for the stairs. One glance back over his shoulder was enough of a prompt for Akechi to follow him, leaving the dusty and worn attic behind.

As they reached the ground floor, Akira didn’t waste time heading for the front door, taking a moment to step outside and flip the sign. As he did so, Akechi made himself comfortable in his usual seat, his case being propped up by Akira as he walked past, and around the counter.

Akechi watched as Akira threw the green apron over his head, nimble fingers tying the strings at the back, as he examined the shelves of coffee beans, reaching for Akechi’s preferred flavour. Crimson eyes remained fixated. Akira really did look good in an apron.

Aware he was staring, Akechi averted his gaze, coughing into one gloved hand. 

“So, Akira?” He got a noncommittal hum as a reply, as a select portion of coffee beans were poured out, “How long have you been singing for?” There was a slight jolt, too many beans falling out of the jar, Akira avoided his eyes as he tried to clean them up, Akechi sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with it, you know?”

Hands stilled over the spilt coffee beans. “You think?”

Akechi didn’t miss a beat, “Of course,” Akira’s eyes met his own, and all Akechi could hope was that his eyes reflected his sincerity, “You’re rather talented, it’s not something you should be ashamed of.”

Akira flushed slightly, focusing back on clearing the least of the spilt coffee beans away, but the tension from his shoulders was gone. Akechi leaned forward as Akira began speaking. Soft, quiet, as if they were sharing a secret most intimate. Akechi’s stomach fluttered at the thought.

“I never really had any training, but I’ve always been interested in musicals, I guess that’s where it started,” He put the coffee bean jar back on the shelf, focusing now on the grinder, “Even back home, I was pretty busy- especially with schoolwork. Singing, musicals...it was a good way to relax, to blow off steam.” He rolled his wrist, before going back to grinding, “Something that’s stuck with me, I guess.”

For a moment, Akira stopped. Hand still on the grinder, he looked over at Akechi. There was something in his eyes, a flash of vulnerability. “It’s not something I’ve ever shared with people before so….could we keep this between us?”

Trust. 

Akira was trusting  _ him _ . 

Something churned in Akechi’s stomach. Akira shouldn’t trust him, not given who he is, what he’s  _ done-  _ certainly not what he’s going to do. He’s a monster, cruel, untrustworthy- he wasn’t worth whispered secrets over coffee in the dark of the night, he wasn’t worth Akira’s genuinity, his friendship. 

And yet, Akechi craved it. An escape from the loneliness that had plagued him his whole life, finally finding someone he could talk to, he could confide in and be happy with. Was it out of the question, for someone like him? 

He stared at the other boy, warm under the soft lighting of Leblanc, and smiled, “Of course.”

The vulnerability, the insecurity, faded from Akira’s gaze, and Akechi had to force himself not to focus on the delighted flutters in his stomach that resulted. He was the one who eased Akira’s worries. Who assured him nobody else would be privy to  _ their  _ secret (because that was what it was, their secret- something they shared, and Akechi would be damned if he let someone else steal that from them).

However, Akechi wasn’t one to let opportunity pass him by. 

“I do have one condition though.” The tension was back, as he was regarded with great caution. Akechi was careful, relaxing his posture, allowing a soft smile to grace his lips, “Sing. When it’s just us- of course, you don’t have to around others- but on nights like this, don’t hold back on my part.”

Whatever Akira had expected him to say, it wasn’t that, judging by the wide stare and momentary pause in movement. He reclaimed himself quickly, and Akechi was quick to not smirk at the stunned look Akira still worse

“O-oh, I guess I can do that? I mean, it’s a weird request though.”

The honesty was refreshing, as always, it was the moments like these with Akira that Akechi found himself being truly honest in return, he was never sure what to make of that, “Is it? You’re singing is rather nice, I’ve already said as much, it’s very soothing to listen to.” An understatement, but Akechi didn’t quite feel the need to be  _ that  _ honest.

The slight flush was back, but it had to be admired how Akira tried to mask that by suddenly busying himself with making the coffee again, “Thanks...nobody’s ever told me that before.”

Likely because Akira never shared his voice with others before, not that Akechi was about to ruin the moment by pointing that out.

The pair fell into silence, after that. The only sounds filling the silence was the boiling of coffee, small bubbles beginning to erupt; the churning of coffee grounds, being emptied as they waited for the coffee to be ready, gentle footfalls of the barista flitting between areas. And then, a small tune. Barely audible at first, a hum.

Coming from Akira.

Akechi leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on one leather palm, his eyes not straying from the other boy. As if he realised that Akechi wasn’t about to stop him, the hum grew from a quiet background noise, to soft melodic lyrics. A relaxed smile on Akira’s face.

The warm lighting of Leblanc outlined Akira’s dark mess of hair like a halo. Akira had always moved with such grace, effortless, but the confidence was new. Something that he’d hidden for far too long, that only Akechi was allowed to witness. He didn’t know the words, but something about the way Akira moved, the way he smiled as if welcoming him to join in, made him wish he did. The coffee was poured with extra care, with a teasing flick of the wrist on the end. Playfully, he added a dash of chocolate power, and with a wink sent in Akechi’s direction, set the cup down. Comfort, belonging, it was all Akechi could feel in that moment. Familiar, specially brewed coffee intermingled with the soothing vocals passing Akira’s lips, with his every smile, contentedness glittering in his eyes as they clashed with Akechi’s own gaze.

It was  _ beautiful _ .

Akechi looked away, tried to suppress the flutters in his stomach, replaced it for bile in his throat. Foolish of him to hope, to dream. He knew this happiness was something he could enjoy forever. Not when he’d be forced to put an end to it himself.

He’d never deserve it anyway.

* * *

 

The unforgiving wind of Spring beat against the windows, howling against the dead of the night. Even within the well-insulated apartment, it echoed and battered.

Akechi shot upright, eyes wide, as he tried to regain control of his laboured breathing. Vaguely, he was aware of the sweat sticking his nightshirt to his chest, of the hair plastered to his face, but he couldn’t register it. Couldn’t see it, or feel it. Lost in his memories….

_ The overwhelming stench of gunpowder invaded his senses as he stared down at the limb body before him. Mottled dark hair stood messy and unkempt even in death, never had his lithe frame looked quite so weak as it did now, disgustingly pliable in a way he would never have allowed in life. _

The distinct lighting of the moon providing Akechi with his only grounding, the only way he could even attempt to take a better grasp on his surroundings, to escape the memories attacking his mind. That’s what he’d been advised to do, right? Ground himself. Grounding. 

His blood was rushing in his ears. His head swam.

_ His face was littered with bruising. Blood crusted around a split lip, and Akechi would swear he saw puncture marks stark against pale skin, not quite hidden by the turtleneck. Fury pulsed through his veins at the thought of what those guards may have put him through. _

_ Like he was one to talk. _

_ Never had a gun felt heavier in Akechi’s hand, as it did now. _

His hands scrambled for his head, twisting and pulling at damp locks. He barely felt it. Yet still, he clasped onto that pain, this was grounding, right? He was here, wherever here was, not in that cold, unforgiving room-

His lungs pulled tight. Akechi choked for his breath.

_ Dazed grey eyes stared up at him, as if hardly registering the murder that had just taken place before his own eyes. That same gleam of innocence still shone in his eyes, remained to regard the detective with such a lack of judgement. Akechi resisted the urge to flinch back.  _

_ The unforgiving cold of the gun pressed to his head, right below that mess of hair. He cocked the gun.  _

_ Even now, there was nothing in those eyes. Even now, Akechi was plagued by memories of nights in Leblanc, of laughter over chess, soft melodies and the soothing aroma of coffee. What could have been his eternal happiness. _

_ He pulled the trigger. _

_ Akira Kurusu fell forward to the table, blood splattered across the surface. _

_ Akira was dead. _

Vaguely, Akechi could feel his fingernails digging in to his scalp, but he was far too caught up in trying to catch his own breath to care. Dark spots that had nothing to do with the darkness of the room threatened to overwhelm him.

A voice, groggy and sleep-laden, cut through the darkness.

“Goro? What-” A yawn, “What are you doing-  _ oh _ .”

A weight beside him shifted, a figure crept into his peripheral vision, its focus solely on him.

“Another nightmare, huh?” 

The voice was soft. Too soft. Too reminiscent of that sympathy and care he’d once received, been so undeservingly offered, that he has turned around and shot-

“Hey, hey, Goro, breathe with me, okay? Breathe.”

The figure moved, emerging directly into his eyeline. His eyes stung, a wetness gathering at the corners.

Outlined by the guiding light from the moon, messy hair even more raggled from sleep, offering him that same understanding gaze, heavy with concern and worry, grey eyes clashed with his own. 

The relief threatened to drag him under.

Akira sat there, understanding and so perfectly alive and breathing.

Which is more than Akechi could say for himself.

“Goro? It’s okay, just listen to my voice, alright? You’re safe, everyone’s safe, whatever you saw just now- it was a nightmare. You can get through this, just breathe in time with me.”

And Akechi did. At some point, Akira grasped to his hands, pulled them down away from his face, his hair. The grip was gentle, but insistent. Not for a moment did their shared gaze break. Akechi breathed as Akira ran circles on the back of his hands, waited with him so patiently.

The pain in his lungs alleviated, the room stopped spinning, and all he saw was Akira.

The worry in those grey eyes faded, replaced with relief, as his grip on Akechi’s hands tightened ever so slightly. “Better? Do you feel okay enough to lie back down?”

Akechi nodded, relaxing slightly as he lay back down, head resting on plush pillows. Akira lay beside him, pulling the covers up to their shoulders. No faster had he done so, that Akechi had him in a tight hug, arms pulled tight around his waist.

The was a moment of pause, before one hand began slowly raking through his dampened locks. Despite the guilt at Akira having to touch his hair when it was in such a poor condition, Akechi eased into the repetitive movement. They lay like that for a while, waiting for Akechi’s heart rate to return to its resting point, their legs intertwined and perfectly content in each others embrace.

When he finally felt stable enough, Akechi pulled back, retrieving his hand from where it had been holding tight around Akira, he pushed up the wild mess of curls hiding his forehead, and placed a gentle kiss there. Taking a moment to pause, and stare at the unblemished skin.

Akira sighed, his arms wrapping around Akechi’s chest, “One of  _ those  _ dreams, hm?”

“I- yes.” Akechi wound his arm back around Akira’s waist, “They seem to be the hardest to shake.”

It wasn’t the first time Akechi had revisited the night he’d supposedly ‘shot’ Akira, been plagued by the guilt, horror, and self-loathing that so frequently accompanied it. But those nightmares were easier now, when Akira was always by his side, every time he woke up.

“Hey, look at me,” Akira leaned forward, his gaze unwavering, “I’m not going anywhere, Goro. I’m staying, Right here.”

There were a thousand things Akechi could have retorted with. Told him about the concerns he had whenever Akira gets just that bit too reckless, whenever he forgot to lock Leblanc at night, but instead he smiles, allowing his head to slip forward and rest against Akira’s own, “Good.”

They fell into comfortable silence, locked in a warm embrace, Akechi fails to remember a time he felt more content, than when he was with Akira. Slowly he closed his eyes.

“Remember that time I caught you singing in Leblanc?”

Quiet, and then, a small laugh.

“Yeah, I was so embarrassed at the time...but it helped us get closer, so it was worth it.”

Warmth pooled in his chest, but even then he found the next words hard to choke out. Like a dirty secret thrown into the winds.

“My mother used to sing to me.”

Akira’s breath caught, it was momentary, but slight enough. Akechi seldom talked about his mother, but has he opened his eyes and fixated them on Akira, listening so intently, the words came easier.

“Lullabies, mostly. There was this one particular one, I don’t know it’s name, but it was her favourite. She sung it on her best days, and on her worst. Something about a festival…I don’t have many memories of her, but I’ll never forget the peace she had when she sung it to me. For years, I tried to find the song, but I never managed...all my detective work, and I could never find one song.”

Akira regarded him, eyes alight with sorrow- but not pity. Never pity. He knew how much Akechi loathed it.

Instead, his gaze flitted away. He bit his lip, and Akechi clung to his next words like a vice.

“I think-” For a moment, he met Akechi’s gaze again, “I think I know what song she was singing. It’s an old lullaby, not that common now.”

As if ashamed, he redirected his gaze away from Akechi. But Akechi couldn’t get the implications of Akira’s words out of his mind.

“Would you- I mean, if you’re comfortable with it, would you sing it? Please?” He almost winced at the begging undertones of that last word, but when Akira looked at him again, eyes wide but understanding, Akechi found he didn’t regret it.

“Of course.” Akira’s voice was always so soft, so understanding, and as Akechi closed his eyes, the peaceful melody filled the silence. Gentle, unwavering. A warmth blanketed him.

_ I will be here, until Bon Festival, _ _   
_ _ After Bon Festival, I will not be here, _

Akira’s thumb rubbed circles into his back, and Akechi found his mind becoming blank. Free from his nightmares and guilt, free of memories of his mother falling to death at her own hands, from the recollection of how Akira’s body crumpled, lifeless. None of it mattered, not in that moment.

_ If Bon Festival comes earlier, _ _   
_ _ I would return home earlier, _

And it would never matter again. 

Not for as long as he had Akira, for as long as he had those good memories he could cling to.

He let Akira’s voice, his mother’s favourite lullaby, surround him. Warm, welcoming.

He’d never let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact about the lullaby Akira was singing: It’s known as the Itsuki Lullaby, and was sung by young girls from poor families, whom had been hired by busy parents to take care of their children during the ‘Bon Festival’. The whole song centres upon this, the young girls singing this lullaby to remind them of home, of their own families. If you care to look it up, try this [link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-3nYbLjjWg). It’s actually quite a sad song, as most lullabies are, but I felt it was best fitting.


End file.
